


Of Loss and Loving Stardust

by Lacylu42



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Bad Wolf, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:18:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3544127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacylu42/pseuds/Lacylu42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, give a teenager — a <i>human</i> — the time vortex and see what kind of mischief she gets up to. The Bad Wolf doesn’t just spend her seconds of existence graffiti-ing her name across time and space. She exists for one reason: to keep her Doctor safe. And she’s going to see to it, whether he likes it or not.</p>
<p>Could be considered very mild non-con (kissing).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Loss and Loving Stardust

“Trenzalore.”

The Doctor whirled around from the console, startled. “Rose! Blimey. I thought you went for a kip.”

“Trenzalore is a problem.” She was stood there in her pink flannel jimjams, hair in a messy ponytail, looking puzzled. Contemplative. She wasn’t looking at him, but far away.

He reached up and scratched his ear. “Sorry, what?” He scoured his memory for the word. Nothing came to mind.

She looked over at him as though noticing him for the first time. “Oh. Hallo.”

He grinned. “Hello. Is there something — I thought you were sleeping.”

“The fall of the eleventh. It’s a problem,” she said emphatically. “I haven’t worked it out yet.”

The Doctor cocked his head to one side. “Are you alright?”

Suddenly she smiled at him, and he smiled back. He couldn’t help it.

“My Doctor,” she said softly. He felt a warmth rising in his chest, but at the same time the words raised the fine hairs on the back of his neck. 

“Rose,” he said gently, taking a few steps toward her. “Are you dreaming?”

“No, Doctor,” she said, shaking her head and smiling at him as though he were a silly child. “I’m finally awake.”

That shut him down like a glass of cold water dumped over his head. “Allllllrighty then. Why don’t we just take a little stroll,” he said, taking hold of her elbow and steering her toward the corridor. “Down towards the infirmary maybe. It’s lovely this time of night, and—”

She snapped her fingers suddenly. “Of course! Oh, you’re brilliant, you are. ’S like a wound, and like a wound, things can get in.” Her forehead puckered in consternation. “But not me. I’d just muck things up more. I just need…” She got that faraway look again. “Yes. She’s perfect. Impossible. A bit pretty, but…”

“Right, let’s go.”

She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. Just like that. Warm and soft, familiar but not. Loving. Sad.

She cupped his cheek with her hand as she pulled away and he felt his hearts clench at her expression. “Doesn’t matter,” she said at last. “Long as she keeps you safe.”

The Doctor put an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the infirmary. By the time they reached it, she was practically asleep on her feet. He steered her to one of the beds and made sure she was comfortable before running every test he could think of.

Kissing usually meant some sort of alien possession in his experience. Or mind control. (Except when it didn’t.)

When she stirred a few hours later, he was sitting at her side. She blinked blearily at him and at the bright white room around her.

“What’re we doing here?”

“I looked up Trenzalore. In the data banks. It’s just a planet. Can’t say I’ve ever been there. No reason to go. Pretty boring on a galactic scale. I mean, I’m sure the Trenzalorians think it’s nice, but–” 

Rose pushed herself into a sitting position squinting in the light. “Oi. It’s a bit early for you to not be making any sense.”

The Doctor frowned. “I am making sense. You’re the one spouting nonsense about some nowhere boring planet and an impossible girl.”

She scowled at him. “What are you on about? Did something happen?”

“You don’t remember?” She shook her head, giving him a blank look. “You came into the console room and started talking about Trenzalore and a problem, and then…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bouncing. 

“Then?”

He took his glasses off and folded them neatly before putting them in his pocket. “And then you fell asleep,” he said finally. “But I wanted to run some tests, so I brought you in here.”

“And?”

He frowned. “Right as rain. Not a hair out of place.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“What? No, I just…” He scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “You really don’t remember any of it?”

“Not a bit!” Rose said brightly, hopping down off the bed. She cocked her head at him. “Are you worried? Should I be—”

“No. No. Definitely not. You were probably just dreaming. Sleepwalking. Probably.”

“Never done that before,” Rose said, heading toward the door. “Maybe it was that New Chinese takeaway. Gave me weird dreams. No more mu shu for me…”

“That must be it,” the Doctor said. 

~*~

“Sarah Jane…”

The Doctor looked up from his book. They were stuck on Estaran, waiting for the solar storms to clear before the TARDIS could safely navigate again. Rose had insisted she didn’t mind. Something about the beaches being spectacular, which they were, he supposed, but how long could one stare at an ocean?

Still, he’d been happy to see her happy. And humans needed sun exposure to make vitamin D, so a little sunshine might do her good. It was a red star, not a yellow one, but the process should be roughly the same.

They’d stretched out a blanket on the sand, she with very little clothing on and he, she insisted, with far too much, and she’d promptly fallen asleep. 

It was fine. He was keeping track of the UV rays and had planned to wake her before she could burn.

“What about her?” he asked, cautiously. Sarah Jane was ages ago, even in their personal timelines. As far as he could tell, the women had parted on amicable terms, but one could never be quite certain. Mickey hadn’t been far off warning him about his “missus and his ex.” 

“You almost missed her.”

The Doctor squinted over at Rose through his specs. Her eyes were still closed, head pillowed on one elbow. He was using his suit coat as a pillow.

“What do you mean? I saw her the moment she came in the school.”

“Not then. Before. The other you. With the stupid pirate shirts. You almost left without her.”

He frowned behind his spectacles, trying to remember. “Did she tell you that? She stowed away. That’s when I decided I needed a proper lock. I didn’t even know…”

Rose sighed. “She almost didn’t. Needed a helluva push. But you needed her, so…”

The Doctor set his book down on the sand and propped up on one elbow. “Rose?” he asked slowly, “Are you dreaming again?”

She smiled and opened her eyes. They were gold. Glowing. He’d seen that before.

The Doctor sat straight up in alarm, pulling out his sonic. “What have you done?!” he demanded.

She sat up slowly. “Exactly what you would have done. I saved the universe. I saved you.”

“I removed the Time Vortex,” he said, starting to feel frantic. The sonic showed it was burning her mind, but it was much smaller, much slower than he would have expected for how long she’d been carrying it. How was that even possible? He should have noticed even the smallest trace remaining. How could he have missed–

“Doctor,” she said kindly, reaching out and touching his hand. “Wibbly-wobbly, remember? I’m just visiting. Don’t be afraid.”

“Wibbly… What? Visiting?” he repeated, incredulous. 

“All of time and space?” she said, pointing at her head. “The Time Vortex and I are one. I can project myself anywhere. Anywhen. Any–” She paused, looking around. “Where are we?”

“Estaran.”

She sighed happily, lying back down onto the blanket and stretching languorously. “Oh, I love it there. Will love it here. Then. Now. Whatever. Be sure to take us to see the cliff divers.”

The Doctor leaned over her, still scanning. “This isn’t safe. You could–”

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down into a deep kiss, lips parted, tongue exploring. He should pull away. He should stop it. That’s not his Rose, and even if it were–

She finished the kiss, smiling. He let out a long breath. “We can’t…” he began to say, not entirely sure where that sentence was going to end up.

She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “You started it.” Then she sighed dramatically, her eyelids fluttered shut, and by all appearances, she was asleep again.

He spent the next ten minutes doing every scan he could think of. Every trace of the Time Vortex was gone. Even the memories of it still appeared to be safely locked away.

So he woke up Rose and told her to turn over so she didn’t end up as red-skinned as a Denovian. 

He continued to worry about her, though. Time Vortex in a human brain wasn’t healthy, even for short periods.

The kiss he filed away to worry about later. 

~*~

Time Lords don’t sleep much compared to humans. A few hours of deep REM every now and then would keep him going for days. His brain was very efficient. But he did need rest eventually. He usually waited until Rose was asleep before he locked things down and got some sleep himself. After the week they’d had, he was really looking forward to his bed.

He made his way through the corridors, loosening his tie, shrugging out of his jacket and unbuttoning his cuffs. The door opened automatically for him and in the darkness, he could make out the rounded shapes of the coral struts that formed the corners of his bed, like an organic four-poster, waiting to welcome him to sleep.

Except, someone else appeared to be waiting to welcome him as well.

Someone was sleeping in his bed.

He raised the lights slightly. He could see her blonde hair spilled out across the pillow like rays of sunshine in a child’s drawing, and his breath hitched. 

But was it Goldilocks, somehow just sleeping in the wrong bed, who would run away chastened when she woke…

Or was it the big Bad Wolf, waiting to devour him?

Adrenalin made his hearts beat faster and he silently cursed his treasonous body for knowing exactly which option it preferred. 

He tossed his jacket over one of the struts as he moved to the side of the bed. Part of him wanted to just let her be. Let her sleep. He could lie down next to her. There was nothing wrong with that. They’d shared a bed before. He wouldn’t sleep. He would just wait until she woke and…

He shook his head. This wasn’t like sharing a camp bed in the jungles of Doreen because the alternative was lying on the likely-snakeish-thing-infested floor.

“Rose,” he said softly. The word caught and he had to clear his throat. She stirred, rolling over towards him. He squatted down next to the bed.

“Doctor,” she said, her voice dusky with sleep, eyes hooded.

“Rose, how did you get here?” he asked — truly curious. The TARDIS was usually very circumspect with his private rooms. 

“Wanted to see you,” she said, sitting up on one elbow. “Wanted you.”

He swallowed. Hard. “You should go back to your room.”

She smiled, “Only if you come with me.” She reached up, running her fingers through his hair. Every nerve ending on his scalp stood at attention. Her other hand reached out to touch his cheek, running the soft pad of her thumb over the dark shadow of stubble across his jaw.

“I can’t,” he said firmly, willing his voice not to break. He grabbed her wrists gently and pulled them down from his face.

“You want to,” she said, not coyly or seductively, but truly confused. “I want to…”

“You’re not her,” he said firmly, as much to her as to himself. “Rose doesn’t remember when she wakes up, and I could never — I would never.”

“Not even if it made you happy?” she asked. “I just want you to be happy. You’re so sad…”

He smiled and shook his head. “’M not sad,” he said truthfully. 

“Were sad,” she said, her face crumpling in consternation. “Will be sad. Ooof.” She flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “You’re right; tenses _are_ hard.”

~*~

The doors of the TARDIS shut behind him, and for a split second, he could feel the timelines rewriting. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, and he wondered if his other two selves would have the same queasiness, or if it were a particular reaction of this body. 

He fancied he could almost see them, different paths of reality, spreading out around him, tinged gold, some fading, some burning out completely, others pulsing brighter with possibility. He knew he was losing something. Something important. The knowledge was slipping away, and in a moment, he wouldn’t even be aware that it was gone…

“Hallo, Doctor.”

He whirled round and saw — it couldn’t be. She sat on the jump seat, kicking her feet. Red jumper and blue jeans.

“Didja miss me?” she asked with a coy grin.

“How…?” His hearts felt like they were going to stop beating. He stopped breathing, respiratory bypass be damned. She was there, and real, and solid, and—

“Oh, you know me. All of time and space. Everything that is or was. Everything that will be…”

Hope crumbled like a ledge giving way beneath his feet. “You’re not her,” he said, his voice cold.

Her eyes glowed gold as though to emphasize the point. “I’m as much her as the man you left with her is you.”

He scowled.

“Don’t be like that,” she said, jumping down from the seat and coming towards him. She ran her hands down his arm, twining her fingers into his, just like she — like Rose — had always done.

“Don’t,” he said, trying to pull away. “What do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted. You.” He looked at her then. And Gallifrey almighty, it wasn’t fair. She looked so real, felt so solid. “Safe. Happy,” she continued. 

“What are you doing here?”

She sighed. “Meddling. You’d be very cross with me if you knew all the meddling I’ve done. Did. Will do.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, curious despite himself. “What are you meddling in?”

“Your life,” she replied with a grin. “Lives. Whatever.”

He stared. “You’re changing my timeline?”

She made an apologetic face, tracing circles on the back of his hand. “Just a bit. Here and there.”

He put his other hand to his face, scrubbing his eyes. It was too much. Honestly, give the time vortex to a teenager — a _human_ — and look what kind of mischief she did. Like the words “bad wolf” she was scattering herself across time and space. To what end? To help him? What had she changed? How much damage had she done?

He looked at her then, really looked at her. Young and beautiful. Wide smile and sparkling eyes. Glowing with the light of the TARDIS. She was his Rose. More so even, perhaps, than the real Rose had been, because she had become this for him. (Much the same way he had become this for her, he supposed.)

“Hang on, you’ve got a body,” he said, pulling back.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Give the man a prize.”

“You’re solid. You have a proper form. You always used her body. How can you have a body when her body is — when she’s — She’s in a different universe!”

“Ah.” She leaned into him a bit more, as if to emphasize her solid form. “I wanted… I needed to see you. One last trip. I’m burning up my soul to say goodbye.”

He could feel it then, could feel her mind expanding, exploding, trying to escape the confines of a human brain. His fingers ghosted up to brush a strand of hair from her face, and she closed her eyes, leaning ever so slightly towards his touch.

“How long have you got?” he asked.

“Oh, milliseconds — then. You’re about to kiss me out of existence. And what a way to go!” she said, waggling her eyebrows, the tip of her tongue peeking out between her teeth. “But you know time isn’t a linear progression.”

“In other words?”

“In other words, my Doctor, I’ve got all night.”

~*~

“You know, I lived hundreds of years without your help.”

“You think so? Jeopardy friendly, you are.”

“Oi! I got on just fine.”

“Didn’t you ever wonder why so many of your companions are humans? From Earth?”

He frowned. “I like humans.”

“’Course you do. And I sent you ones you would like.”

“Meddling, hmmm?”

“Just a little. Here and there. Rose made you happy; I exist to keep you safe.”

He inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent. A part of him wished she wouldn’t remind him who — what — she really was. And wasn’t. A part of him wanted to pretend…

“I could still go back for her. I’ve crossed my own timeline before.” He said it defiantly, as though daring her to say he couldn’t. She sighed and nuzzled a little closer.

“No second chances. You’re not that sort of a man.”

“Is she… Are they happy?”

She tilted her head back just a bit, studying him. “You can’t see his timeline.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Our timelines diverged the moment he came into existence. He’s a different man.”

She waggled a finger at him. His face fell. 

“He was me to start with,” he said with a scowl. “And so I know how he felt. I know he… Because I…”

“You can’t say it. Even now,” she said sadly. “Even to me?”

“It’s not as easy for me as it is for you,” he said gruffly. “Time Lords don’t — didn’t… S’why I like you humans so much. Short little lives. You’ve got nothing to lose, so you just dive right in.”

She stroked his arm, gently. “You said it though. She didn’t hear you. But I did.”

“I had to let her go,” he said so softly it was almost a whisper. The decision had eaten him up. He knew it was the right one. Without a doubt. So why had it felt so wrong? He had questions. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answers. “Do you — does she hate me?”

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace, the kind of hug they’d used to share, and it nearly broke him. “We could never,” she said softly.

He thought about not saying anything more, but he couldn’t help it. “You didn’t change it. Canary Wharf. You could, but you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Because it’s a fixed point for you.”

She smiled gently and traced a finger down the center of his chest. “No. Because it’s a fixed point for you.”

“What? Wait, what? I don’t have—“

“Of course you do. You just can’t see them.”

He scowled at that and sulked a bit. He had a flash of memory he couldn’t immediately place, but it had something to do with Romana. Something to do with not enjoying the feeling of not being the smartest one in the room. 

“I was always going to lose you,” he said at last, tightening his grip around her as though to reassure himself that she was still there. “From the moment I said run.”

“You know better than anyone: it’s not about how much time you have, but what you do with it.”

He sighed and sat up, reaching for his shirt. “Sometimes I think I have too much time.”

She fiddled with the edge of the sheet. “Your song is ending.”

He looked up from buttoning his shirt with a start. “Oh, bloody— Not you, too.”

“I’ve seen it happen, and it breaks my heart, but I can’t change it.”

His jaw clenched. “No. Nothing can.” 

She laid her head gently on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, turning almost involuntarily to kiss her hair. “I’ve seen to it, though. If it can’t be me with you the next go round. Her, I mean. Us.”

“Seen to what?”

“Your happiness. It got a bit complicated. Timelines got a bit… muddled. But she’s fantastic. You’ll love her. Truly, you will. And that’s OK. I’m here to tell you that’s OK. You made your choice. And we both have to live with it. But I don’t want you—she wouldn’t want you to live in pain. Not forever.”

He turned to look at her with a frown. “Are you saying you’ve set me up with a date?” She grinned, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her teeth.

“You’re going to love her mum.”

“Oh, go on. Pull the other one.”

“You will!” she laughed, her melodious laugh that used to fill him with such joy, and now only made him feel hollow. “You only thought you got domestics with me. You’ve no idea.”

“That’s your idea of making me happy, is it?”

She placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him. “Yes,” she said at last.

~*~

They lay together for hours, not talking much, not moving, just holding one another. He’d often hugged Rose, often held her in his arms. They’d spent more than one night just like this. On Kropp Tor. On Nigent IV. Innocent yet intimate. Casual, yet more meaningful than he ever would have let on.

This felt different. Like stolen time. 

Ridiculous concept. One couldn’t steal time any more than one could borrow it or waste it. Time is constant. Non-linear. Non-subjective. It moves without regard to the little lives tumbling around inside like stones in a river.

And it doesn’t care which edges get knocked off in the process. Which ones get battered and broken along the way.

He felt her stiffen slightly in his arms. They sat up together. She turned to look at him, and her eyes were glowing gold.

“I don’t want you to go,” he blurted out. Stupid body. Stupid emotional, hormonal, young body.

“Quite right, too,” she said taking his hand in hers. She was fading. He could feel it already. The atoms she had stolen and pressed together to make this form were loosening their hold on one another, ready to scatter back into the practical nothingness from whence they’d come. Could one love stardust? 

“Don’t be afraid,” she said softly. “You’re saving me. At the other end of our story. We’re just beginning.”

“You’re dying,” he said almost petulantly. “I can’t lose you again.”

“You’ll never lose me,” she said gently. “You’re sending me home.”

He swallowed the sob that was lodged in his throat. She said he would be happy again, but he couldn’t imagine the feeling, couldn’t remember what it was even like. 

And he remembered feeling this way before. Black and hopeless, heavy and angry with the weight and the guilt of what he’d done.

And that’s when he’d found her. 

“Our first kiss,” he said, and she smiled, as though she knew he understood.

He pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers, trying to spell out everything he’d wished he’d said, everything he wanted to say, everything he hoped she already knew. They broke apart too soon. Too soon. Too soon.

“And our last,” she replied, her voice wispy and thin. A whisper on a trail of golden light that stretched out into the future. Into the past.


End file.
